by Tom Lochhaas
In the end he simply turned it on, confirmed the channel on 16, thumbed the mic, and said, “Coast Guard? This is the sailboat Take It Easy.”
It took the Coast Guard cutter only an hour to reach him. Two crew boarded and helped him get the sails down, and then they got him aboard the cutter and took the sailboat in tow. He had some difficulty trying to explain how he’d gotten into this situation without sounding foolish, but the crew were nice enough to say that being too exhausted to continue safely was cause enough for their assistance. Back in port, they filed their report, and the next day the sector issued a routine press release about another successful search-and-rescue case, ending with the usual phrasing that even though there had been no injuries, the case could have easily turned fatal, followed by a list of required and recommended safety gear all mariners should carry.
Briefly
Ottawa River, Ottawa, Canada, August 2011. It was just a simple excursion on the Ottawa River, sailing a ways downstream, then motoring back against the current if the wind grew light, upstream toward the park, and then doing it again. It was a fine early evening, and the three people on the daysailer were enjoying the last hours of daylight. Then, without warning, the outboard motor stalled and they started drifting downstream. One person kept pulling the starter rope and fiddling with the choke and throttle, the second trimmed the sails and tried to keep the boat moving against the current, and the third looked downstream to where ripples on the water indicated the increasing current as the river approached the rapids. “We better call for help!” he said. He called 911 on his cell and was transferred to the fire department, which operated the water-rescue team. The sailors were advised to drop their anchor before the boat reached the rapids, which they hadn’t thought of, and that stopped them long enough for the rescue boat to reach them. Funny what you don’t think of in a crisis.
Galveston Bay, Texas, 2007. The couple had a few drinks and then decided to go for a short sail. Conditions seemed good, with only a light chop on the water and a good wind for sailing. They climbed into the small daysailer at the dock, started the outboard, and motored out into the bay. They’d gone only a hundred yards when a gust of wind blew off the man’s hat. He reached for it, lost his balance, and tumbled over into the water. He was a good swimmer, his wife said later, and she expected him to swim right back to the boat. She took the motor out of gear and waited for him. But the wind was blowing the boat away from him. She didn’t think to throw him a life jacket. When she put the outboard back in gear, the engine stalled and it took her a long time to get it started, she said later, explaining why it had taken her so long to get back to shore to call for help. His body was found later.
Lake Michigan, Wisconsin, August 2011. Sometimes it just seems like nothing goes right. The morning had started just fine, a bit breezy but good, as the 61-year-old sailed his 32-footer solo out into the lake. When the wind built too strong for comfort, he decided to turn into a harbor for shelter, but as he started to furl the jib the furling line jammed on the drum. He couldn’t get it free while still trying to sail, so he sailed on down the lakeshore a short distance to the next, larger harbor where he was able to turn in. He started the inboard engine, planning to motor slowly up into the wind with the wheel locked while he went forward to free the jammed furler, but when he put the engine in gear, it died immediately. He looked back and saw his towed dinghy blown up against the transom, its painter disappearing down into the water. It had probably wrapped on the prop shaft. So now his only option was to sail around until conditions improved. But when he looked down the companionway he saw water over the floorboards; could the pressure on the shaft have loosened the shaftlog seal? He couldn’t go forward to fix the sail, and he couldn’t go below to check the leak. While he pondered his dilemma a wind shift caught the boat sideways and pushed it up against the breakwater at the harbor entrance, and he heard the nasty grinding of fiberglass against rock. He reached for the VHF and called the Coast Guard. Luckily they had a 41-foot cutter inside the harbor and were there within minutes, taking him in tow and bringing aboard a fast pump if needed for the leak. Less than an hour later, he’d regained his composure and was telling jokes as the marina hoisted his dripping boat from the water.
CHAPTER 7
A Gust of Wind
Small sailboats—like catamarans, Sunfish, and unballasted daysailers—are known to capsize easily and often in wind gusts or if the sailor loses control of the sails or does not maintain a good balance of crew weight. For the sailors of such boats it is especially important to wear a PFD as well as to be prepared to right the boat or, failing that, to stay with the boat and call for help. As these incidents show, a simple capsize can otherwise quickly become a disaster.
Three Generations Sailing off Puffin Island
The July day dawned bright and beautiful, a perfect day for sailing from North Wales to Puffin Island and beyond in the family’s new sailing dinghy. And what a day they had planned! Mr. Roberts, in his mid-sixties, was looking forward to a great day on the water with his son, who was in his late thirties, whom he still called Junior, and his two young grandsons, Tommy, age 8, and Hayden, age 11. The boys had not sailed before, but Roberts and Junior had sailed the new dinghy six or seven times already and were confident the boys would have a great time. At 4 meters overall, the boat was a bit cramped for the four of them. Its capacity plate limited it to three passengers, but they figured the two boys added up to only the weight of one man. Besides, it was beamy enough to feel quite stable.
Roberts and Junior had talked about the day and were not concerned about taking the small craft a short ways offshore. They had already sailed it along the coast of North Wales without incident. They even discussed what they’d do if it capsized and how to right it. It had plenty of buoyancy as long as the hatches of the cuddy cabin were secured, and the centerboard provided enough leverage to flip it back upright if it was blown over. The morning weather forecast on television was good, with no severe weather or high winds mentioned.
And they took their usual safety precautions. All four wore PFDs. Roberts never drank, since he was on medication for an irregular heartbeat, and Junior had nothing to drink before or while sailing.
For more than 30 years Roberts had cruised the Welsh coast in his motor cabin cruiser, but in his sixties he became interested in sailing as a more relaxing family pastime. When he saw the new dinghy at a boat show 4 months ago, he’d fallen in love with its lines and the idea of sailing with his son and grandsons, and had bought it on the spot.
They launched the boat off the trailer late in the morning at a boat ramp in Conwy Bay. In a light wind they started the small outboard engine, raised the mainsail, and headed out into the bay.
Soon enough, the wind built and they shut off the outboard and continued under mainsail alone. It was fine sailing, and the boys were excited as the water swirled by the hull. Their destination was Red Wharf Bay, a few nautical miles to the northwest, past Puffin Island. The wind was southwest, giving them a nice beam reach on port tack. There was just enough room in the cockpit for all four of them to sit in a row on the port cockpit seat.
Junior was aft, steering with the tiller and holding the mainsheet in his other hand. Occasionally the wind gusted, but he kept the dinghy on an even keel by letting out the sail whenever they heeled very much. Next to him, Roberts relaxed, feeling proud of how well his son was handling the boat. Forward of Roberts the two young boys simply held on and enjoyed the ride.
For 2 hours they sailed without having to tack or do much at all as Puffin Island grew larger on the horizon.
“Great sail, eh, boys?” Roberts would say, and they would grin.
By two o’clock the wind was getting stronger as they approached the island, still blowing in from the southwest, and Roberts realized the ride would likely get wet soon after they rounded the island and made a close-hauled course to the west for Red Wharf Bay. They were all dressed only in shorts and T-shirts, plus he was wearing a w
indbreaker, but the sun was warm. With the growing wind, however, the sea had become choppy, with waves rising to 1.5 meters, and soon they were being splashed by spray over the bow. The water was 26°C and felt cold on their sun-warmed skin. Soon Tommy said he was cold. They let him crawl into the cuddy and put the dropboards back in place to keep it dry.
As the wind increased still more, maybe up to 25 knots now, Junior was having trouble holding the mainsheet in one hand while he steered. He took a turn of the line around the cleat beside him to take up the strain but kept a grip on the line so he could let it out quickly if needed.
At 2:30 Junior’s wife called on his mobile phone. “Great sailing!” he shouted over the wind. “We’re just off Puffin Island now. If the breeze keeps up we’ll reach Red Wharf in about an hour.”
She wanted to talk more and hear what their sons thought of the sailing, but he said he needed both hands to control the boat so they rang off.
It may have been that the island funneled more wind on them, or maybe a wind storm was brewing, for a strong gust hit them just as he got his phone back in his pocket. The boat abruptly headed up, turning to port while Junior pulled hard on the tiller to straighten it out. But it was too late; water poured over the port coaming into the cockpit, and with all their weight on that side the dinghy rolled to port and went over.
Then the three of them were in the cold water, joined quickly by Tommy, who threw out the dropboards and pulled himself out of the cuddy as the boat rolled. With the push of the waves the boat continued rolling and turned turtle, water splashing over the inverted hull.
Junior checked that everyone was floating and seemed okay, and then shivering with cold climbed up onto the hull to reach the centerboard, which had swung partway back into its trunk. He extended the board, grasped its end, and pulled back with his body weight.
The boat rolled, slowly at first but quickly gathering speed with the increasing leverage of the board, but then kept rolling over the top of Junior.
He splashed back up to try it again, this time easing his pressure on the centerboard as the boat came upright. This time it stayed upright. The cockpit was full of water, the cabin dropboards were missing, and the cabin was at least partly flooded. He checked that the mainsheet was not cleated down so hopefully they could avoid getting knocked down by the wind again.
But it only took a few seconds for the waves to push the boat over again, and once more it turned turtle.
Junior turned from the boat to his family in the water. The boys were flailing about in their flotation aids, their teeth chattering and their faces white, but they seemed okay for the moment. His father, however, seemed barely able to tread water. He realized then that his flotation device hadn’t inflated. Quickly Junior swam to him and towed him back to the hull, where he felt around in the water and finally pulled the toggle line to inflate the PFD. His father’s face looked bloodless.
On the other side of the hull, Tommy was gasping and coughing up water, having trouble in the waves. Junior quickly got to him and managed to push him up onto the hull, but Tommy seemed unable to hang on to the centerboard and slipped back into the cold water. Junior got him up again, then hoisted up Hayden. Again Tommy was slipping off, shaking with cold, and Junior had to keep pushing up against Tommy’s legs and feet. Hayden was able to stay on the hull on his own, but Junior didn’t dare release Tommy. After a minute he called to his father but didn’t hear an answer. He started moving back around the boat to check on him, but Tommy started sliding down again so he stayed where he was to hold him up.
It was a terrible decision, having to stay with his son and hope his father could make it on his own. Hayden was not strong enough to hold on himself and support Tommy on the hull. Now Tommy wasn’t moving; was he unconscious?
The waves were slapping his own face and he was coughing up water. He didn’t know what to do. It took all his energy to hold up his son and try to keep his own mouth free of water.
After a little while he heard the engine of a boat some distance away, but he had no way to signal it. Their flares were in the cabin underwater, and he didn’t dare try to swim down to look for them. With his last bit of strength he hauled himself higher on the hull and waved frantically at the passing boat.
They didn’t see him.
From his higher position, before sliding back down the hull, Junior saw Roberts floating a short distance away from the hull, not moving. The inflated PFD had ridden up his torso and shoulders, and his face was near the water being splashed by waves.
But he couldn’t leave his sons. Tommy was unconscious, and he couldn’t tell whether he was breathing. He was a whitish-blue color all over.
Junior finally thought to fish his mobile phone from his wet shorts, but it was dead.
His mind raced and then strangely went blank.
Almost an hour later another boat passed. He was so cold he barely noticed it at first, but then he roused himself and waved. The fishing boat turned and approached. Even before the boat reached them its skipper was calling for help on his VHF radio. Junior looked around, but his father had drifted out of sight.
The fishing boat came alongside, and with the help of its crew they got Tommy aboard. One of the men started CPR. Junior and Hayden were taken aboard and wrapped in blankets.
The skipper radioed the Coastguard again for urgent medical attention for Tommy and reported that a man was still missing in the water. A helicopter was launched, and a water search began with lifeboats.
It did not take long for the helicopter to reach them, and Tommy was winched aboard and flown to the nearest hospital.
Roberts’s body was found facedown in the water about a half mile away.
The helicopter returned shortly and evacuated Hayden to the hospital.
Tommy was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. Roberts’s body was taken to shore in the lifeboat. The postmortems later ruled that Roberts died from a combination of drowning and hypothermia and Tommy died of hypothermia.
Junior and Hayden recovered.
The UK Marine Accident Investigation Branch (MAIB) conducted a thorough investigation of the incident. Among its conclusions were the following. The foreign-built sailboat did not meet UK stability and buoyancy requirements and could not be easily righted after capsize, although the owner could not have known this. The crew had insufficient dinghy-sailing experience for the conditions they experienced, and they wore clothing providing little protection against the cold. They had not received the latest marine forecast of deteriorating weather. Roberts’s PFD was not securely fastened with a tight waist belt. They had no accessible means to signal or call for help.
A Hobie on the Lake
Lake Hefner is a large recreational lake in the northwest section of Oklahoma City. Flanked by a golf course on one side and circled by a bike path, it is an easily accessed urban oasis popular for picnicking, fishing, and other water recreation. Since personal watercraft, waterskiing, and fast motorboats are banned, it is particularly popular for sailing, and sports a wide variety of sailboats seldom seen so far from America’s coasts. With a marina and active boat club, even larger cabin boats call the 2,500-acre lake home. The land surrounding the lake is flat, allowing steady, often exciting breezes. There are sail races almost every summer weekend, and kiteboarding too has become popular. Casual sailors can rent Hobie catamarans, and others trailer their boats here or launch small daysailers from the beach.
It is a family-friendly lake, ringed by parks, playgrounds, and places to eat. On weekends it seems kids are everywhere, on land and water. Sometimes the water feels like a large playground itself, there are so many boats out. But that gives the lake a welcoming, safe feeling. Who could find anything to worry about when you’re surrounded by so many others?
That was the atmosphere the Saturday that Mike and his friend Jerry planned to take Mike’s two kids sailing in his new Hobie 16. With the help of a couple teenagers they launched the cat, and Mike’s kids, Christine, 8, and Jo
sh, 6, ran off for an ice cream while Mike and Jerry stepped the mast, rigged the boat, and bent on the sails.
“Get your life jackets,” Mike told the kids when they came back. “Leave everything else in the car, and we’ll have a picnic after we sail for a while.”
Mike and Jerry stood in the shallows holding the Hobie steady while the kids climbed aboard. Josh looked almost lost inside his life jacket, as Mike had bought them large enough to last a couple years as the kids grew. His own life jacket, like Jerry’s, was old and a little frayed. He’d grown up nearby and had gotten a lot of use from it over the years.
What a day! The wind felt like a steady 12 to 15 knots from the southwest, great for sailing a Hobie Cat. Out on the lake, off the aptly named Hobie Point, he could see half a dozen boats already zipping along; the more experienced sailors were flying hull as they beat into the wind. The kids were going to love this! With this many boats sailing and surely more to come, there would probably be some impromptu racing too. That excited Jerry, a Laser sailor who didn’t know much about Hobies but was eager to learn.
Mike pointed to where he wanted Christine and Josh to sit, one on each side of the trapeze, forward and out of the way. “Hang on, kids!” he said with a grin, and he and Jerry pushed the Hobie deeper, dropped the rudders, and climbed aboard.
They pointed out at the middle of the lake, the breeze across the starboard beam, and took off. As they accelerated rapidly, Mike motioned for Jerry to slide over and join him on the starboard edge of the trapeze. “Let’s stay flat for a while,” he said, “no use scaring the kids until they get used to it.”
He looked over at his kids. Christine was grinning, strands of hair coming loose from her ponytail and flying around her face. Josh looked more somber, his knuckles white from his grip on the trapeze frame.
